Charlotte had read his mom’s books. Not all of them, but at least half of them. Liam hadn’t been the one to unpack the few books she owned, so he hadn’t noticed the collection of his mother’s books that Charlotte had stacked on the bottom shelf of his bookshelf—the only shelf in the room that hadn’t already been filled with his own books and the one that he’d offered she could use. His mother had been the one to spot them when they’d gotten back from the restaurant and had sat at the dining table. She and Charlotte had been talking about her books since then, and had only taken a short break when Liam presented them with coffee and cannoli.
Liam didn’t even mind that neither his mate nor his mother seemed to remember he was in the room with them. He only cared that on their first coffee
